


Muddy Rivers to the Devil

by kiemitsu



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drinking, Drugs, Gen, Implied Relationships, M/M, Mild Smut, Pining, Sadness, Substance Abuse, Tour, Tour Bus, hopelessness, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:29:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiemitsu/pseuds/kiemitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>---------------------------</p><p>“S-sorry Frankie, I-I, y’know, I just, uh--a-hah-ah--”</p><p>Frank didn’t want to know. Know what Gerard had been up to, been drinking, been smoking. He just wanted to make it through soundcheck, “Don’t worry about it, Gee,” said Frank quickly, “I got you.” </p><p>“Love you Frankie,” slurred Gerard, “Fuckin’ re-really, you’re my fuckin’ savior.”</p><p>“Yeah,” said Frank under his breath, “you too fucker.” </p><p>-----------------------------</p>
            </blockquote>





	Muddy Rivers to the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> This whole fic was inspired by the LP song "Muddy Waters" and the idea of what it was like for Frank to witness upfront Gerard's self-destruction during the early part of Three Cheers touring.
> 
> [EDIT] Updated and expanded, still a work in progress.

Gerard stood before the aluminum bus door, his back to the darkened clouds. The rain had picked up leaving little rivers down his forehead where his long black hair was plastered. In the strange quiet, he felt something, like he was waiting at the crossroads at midnight for the Devil to appear to make a deal for his soul. Something terrifying and ominous, but strangely, curiously, exciting. Like the way you feel looking down on cities from tall buildings. The door stood before him, like the ledge to the sky. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been here, and it wouldn’t be his last. He reached out and knocked once, the door rattling like a broken instrument. He swept his long bangs back from his face, the locks tangled in each other in the worsening storm. The door swung open.

“Had a feelin’ it was you.”

There stood the Devil, ragged black hair and a white grin tinged with crazy. He opened the door wide and motioned for Gerard to come in with his jaw.

The door swung shut with a sound cheap and battered.

\-----------------

“Hey Gerard?” Frank was rubbing his head with a towel, caught in the downpour that started 10 minutes earlier, “Gee! Where you at?” He was walking the length of the tour bus, shouting in various rooms but so far, nothing. He peered into Gerard’s bunk, finding nothing but a half empty bottle of vodka that he could have sworn was full last night, and various odds and ends, scraps of paper with sharpie etched words, headphones. Scowling, he headed for the common room where Mikey was looking intently at his phone.

“Mikes, you seen Gerard?”

Mikey looked up, the screen making his glasses glow, “Yeah, I uh, I think he’s on the Used bus?”

“Again? Fuck.”

Mikey raised an eyebrow, “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing, just…” Frank was fumbling and he knew it but he kept going, “I wanted to show him this melody I got--” 

“Melody?” Ray ducked his head into the common room from wherever he had been. _For a guy that big, he’s pretty fucking stealthy,_ thought Frank, “play it for me, we can work on it together!” 

Frank took the towel from his shoulders and draped his across his head like hood, “Nah, nevermind. Just um, I’m gonna--I’ll be in my bunk.” He slipped past Ray, not wanting him or Mikey to see his face, not right now. Mikey and Ray exchanged puzzled looks, both staring at the space where Frank had been.

Ever since they started touring with the Used, Gerard had been spending alot of time with them on their bus. _Or Bert,_ Frank thought. With that thought, something bitter burned his heart a little more and he hid away in his bunk, staring up at the top bunk where Gerard rarely was these days. So what? Gerard made a new friend, that’s something he should encourage considering how hard it seemed for Gerard to open up to other people. There was just something that didn’t sit right with Frank about Bert. Something predatory and false, ingenuine. Really, he was just looking out for Gee. _Yeah,_ he thought, _I’m just looking out for him, that’s all._ Gerard might be older than him, but he definitely lacked the street smarts Frank had. _I’m just worried,_ he reassured himself, trying to black out the word “jealous” that creeped up in the back of his mind. The rain kept falling, the rhythm eventually lulling Frank into an uneasy sleep.

\-------------

“Frank,” Ray’s big hand was shaking Frank’s shoulder, “Hey, come on buddy, soundcheck, let’s go.” 

“Nnn,” said Frank, his voice coarse, “Got it.” He pulled himself up and swung his feet out to the floor, his hair still slightly damp. The rain had stopped, beams of light filtering in from the windows. Ray turned around to leave but Frank called him back, “Hey, is uh, is Gee back yet?”

Ray shook his head, “I was gonna go the Used’s bus and go get him--” 

A familiar _clack_ sounded and Ray gave a small chuckle, “Guess I won’t have to.” 

Gerard tumbled on to the bus, swaying slightly with each step and pausing to giggle with every other step until he reached the bunks and leaned into the wall, “H-hey, ‘sup bitches-s?” His eyes were tinged red and his hair was a tangled mess. He rubbed his nose with the entirety of his hand, “We got, we got soundcheck,” he continuing, slurring and drawling the words, his eyes out of focus before he slid down the wall sideways, crashing into the corner laughing.

Gerard being drunk wasn’t new. It hadn’t been new for a long time. But what bothered Frank wasn’t the redness of his eyes, it was the red tinge near his nose. Ray reached down to help Gerard up, still giggling away and protesting, “‘M’fine,” and steadying himself with a hand on the wall.

Ray looked at Frank, “You got this? I gotta get going and--” 

_And I can’t deal with this right now,_ is what he wanted to say but it made him hate himself to think it, let alone say it. 

“Yeah,” said Frank, “I got this, don’t worry -- we’ll catch up, tell Bob and Mikes we’ll be there soon.” Ray gave a small smile that said thanks and went to catch up to the others. Gerard was still in the corner. He looked up at Frank like he had only just realized he was there and started to grin, “Frankie, hey-y-y, there you are.” 

“Hey Gee,” said Frank softly, “come on, soundcheck man, let’s go.” He offered his hand to Gerard, who took it and hobbled himself up, putting his chin on Frank’s shoulder and slinging an arm across his back.

“You smell so _good_ Frankie, fuck,” his voice was raspy in Frank’s ear as he inhaled against him.

“Yeah well maybe if you showered...I dunno, ever? You would too.” 

Gerard gave a crooked laugh, “Maybe I-I should, maybe w-we could shower toge--”

Frank cut him off because imagining them showering together was really not the image he needed right now. “Come on, less chatty, more walkie, work with me here.” They swayed together towards the door, Gerard still giggling with an arm around Frank’s shoulders.

“S-sorry Frankie, I-I, y’know, I just, uh--a-hah! Hah-I’m just a little--”

Frank didn’t want to know. Know what Gerard had been up to, been drinking, been smoking, where the bite marks on his neck came from. He just wanted to make it through soundcheck, “Don’t worry about it, Gee,” said Frank quickly, “I got you.” 

“S’why I love you Frankie,” slurred Gerard, nuzzling his nose into Frank’s temple, “Fuckin’ mean it, you’re my fuckin’ savior.”

“Yeah,” said Frank under his breath, “you too fucker.” Together they made it to the door and Frank let go of Gerard’s waist, letting him totter out by himself before following. 

The whole thing was so standard procedure at this point. Gerard rolls onto the bus fucked up, Frank has to deal with it, and then Gerard walks away, and the cycle starts again. He would do anything for Gerard, but it was beginning to wear at him, turning into a bubble of anger that kept growing. Anger at Gerard for never being around, at Bert for taking him away, and at himself for always fucking picking the pieces back up after it was over. But most of all he just wanted to know why. Why Bert? Why not him? 

Gerard turned around, eyes wild and shining.  
“Let’s fucking do this!” He shouted, throwing his fist in the air and charging on. 

\-------------------

“Are we just going to keep pretending this isn’t happening?” Ray’s voice was angry and rang out in the common room at Mikey and Frank. In the bunks, Gerard was finally asleep after what seemed like hours of raving, singing, dramatic soliloquies, and finally puking everything that he had eaten since tour started 4 months ago. Bob was in the bunks, keeping an eye on him just in case.

“Gee likes to drink dude, you knew that coming into this,” stated Mikey like he was just reciting the facts, “we’ve talked to him about it, he doesn’t listen, what are you gonna do?”

“You’re his _brother_ Mikey, and you’re just giving up?”

“Don’t see what else we can do,” Mikey shrugged.

“Frank? Come on, we have to do something--”

Frank squeezed his hands into fists. Gerard’s rapid spiral from drunk to addict had hit him hard, harder than the others and Ray knew that. Ray knew how Frank had pleaded with Gerard to stop, to get help; how he held his hand while he violently came down, screaming curses and spitting venom. How it broke his heart that Gerard never listened, never even promised to try and get better. 

“ _We_ have to do something?” he glared at Ray who was looking at him like HE was the one breaking his heart. “More like _I_ have to do something. You,” he turned his eyes to Mikey, “You’re so fucking happy to just ignore all this shit. And you,” Ray crossed his arms under Frank’s gaze, “You’re too fucking chicken shit to say anything and then just dump him on me when you can’t take it. That’s it, I’m fucking done babysitting.” The door to the bus slammed shut, making the floor vibrate and leaving Ray and Mikey in stunned silence. 

“Should we--”

“No,” said Mikey, “let him go.”

\------------------ 

Clouds were building on the horizon and Frank pulled the hood up on his hoodie, slipping his hands into the pockets. He didn’t have anywhere to go so he just started walking, weaving in-between the busses and runners and people milling around. He felt like punching something, like screaming and breaking shit. They’d been just watching Gerard’s self-destruction when they were supposed to be brothers, a family. But in reality, Mikey really did seem content to ignore it entirely. God knows Bob wouldn’t deal with him, and Ray just didn’t have the words. 

Frank cursed. Gerard would come stumbling back into the bus hours after the show had ended, or maybe he wouldn’t come back at all, appearing sometime the next morning with red-ringed eyes under those huge fucking sunglasses. Other times he slip into Frank’s bunk in the middle of the night, the smell of vodka or beer or whatever was cheap clinging to him. He would watch with a certain manic glee as Frank’s eyes flew open, “What the fuck? Gera--” But Gerard was never there to talk, just to mash his lips into Frank’s, his tongue sloppy. It wasn’t fair. Wasn’t fair because Frank wanted him, but not like this. Not tasting like alcohol and nicotine, not messy and unfocused. Gerard would pin him down, roughly shove his hands into Frank’s sweats before Frank would wake-up from his groggy stupor and push him away, out of the bunk if he had to. And then Gerard would give a deep chuckle, “Shit Frankie,” he’d begin before trailing off into broken fragments and climbing up into his bunk, leaving Frank angry and sad all at once, balled up against the wall.

Frank didn’t realize that he had stopped in front of the same door that Gerard had come to day after day, night after night. The crossroads where the Devil waits, ready to give you anything for your soul. He looked up at the dull silver door, imagining what went on behind it. The powder, how it would cling to Gerard’s sharp nose like dust on a butterfly’s wing. Bert’s crowded grin. Something broke inside Frank then, and he swung the door open, letting it crack against the opposite wall. Bert was sitting across from the door, his face hidden by his stringy hair, save for the bright glow of a cigarette between his lips.

“Wasn’t expecting you,” he drawled, taking a drag and blowing out a thin stream of smoke.

Frank stormed inside and slammed his fists on the table between them, “You stay the _fuck away_ from Gerard,” he narrowed his eyes, getting in Bert’s face, “you hear me?”

Bert’s smile widened, his cigarette glowing, “Maybe it’s not me you should be telling to stay away there, Frankie.” He met Frank’s glare with an easy confidence, “Ain’t no one forcing your sweet Gee to come here. Nah,” he paused for a moment, watching Frank’s face darken with every word and crushing the cigarette out, “he comes here because he _wants_ to, yeah, cause he _needs_ it.” 

The words rang through Frank as Bert licked his lips, the beginning of a small giggle bubbling in his throat, “Mm-mm, you should seem ‘im Frankie. When he’s beggin’ me for it--”

Frank’s fist cracked across his jaw, and he raised his fist for another when Bert starting laughing, blood trickling down from his nose.

“Fuck, man,” he said through the broken laughter, “Didn’t think you had it in you,” he dabbed at the blood from his nose, looking slightly amused. He cut his eyes to Frank, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Gerard it was you.” Bert lit another cigarette, the blood drawing a straight line down his lips. He took a deep drag and coughed out the smoke before offering it to Frank, “You want some, baby?” 

Frank’s fist stung, balled up at his sides. Bert chuckled and took another long drag.

“You goin’ hit me again?” 

Frank took a shallow breath, speaking pointedly, “Just stay--the fuck--away--from Gerard.”

Frank slammed out of the bus, his head reeling. He could still smell the smoke from Bert’s cigarette making his stomach turn. The rain had begun to fall again.

\--------------------

Through the pouring rain came the small tinny sound of a knock in the dark. The door opened, whining on the hinges. Bert’s cigarette was glowing behind it, the only light inside as Gerard closed the door behind him.

\---------------------

Gerard’s eyes were vacant and unfocused, a variety of cuts and bruises on his face and neck. He had been coked out of his head for the past two of the three hotel days they had, and Frank finally pounded on the door enough to get him to open it. 

Bob told him not to waste his time, “You can’t fix him -- you can’t fix addicts, they gotta fix themselves,” he said to Frank in the elevator, “He wants to hole himself up in his room, fuck, let him. He’ll come out eventually.”

But Frank wasn’t going to wait. He rained blows on the door until he heard the small _click_ of the lock turning. The light from the hallway spilled into the darkened room and Gerard squinted his eyes, dark as coal in their sockets.

“Mm--Frank--” 

He was in the same shirt and jeans as when they got there, swaying a little against the doorframe. 

There were so many things Frank wanted to say in that doorway.

_I’m scared for you._

_I want to help you._

_I don’t want you to die._

_Don’t do this._

Frank wanted to say all of this, but something different came out of his mouth instead. He pushed Gerard back into the room, the sheets hanging off the bed, cans of beer and plastic water bottled scattered around the room. He fumbled in the dark until he had Gerard backed up against the wall, pinning him there with an arm to his shoulder.

“Hey,” started Gerard, giggling a little in between, “Frankie’s bein’ rough--”

That giggle. That fucking giggle that screamed I don’t give a fuck about how worried you are. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Frank shouted, slamming Gerard’s shoulder into the wall, “You fucking--fucking useless junkie! Is this what you want? You fucking happy, huh?”

But Gerard just kept wheezing and giggling, his eyes looking past Frank like he wasn’t even there.

“Wake up! Wake the fuck up Gee!” Frank’s hand sharp across Gerard’s cheek, both fists twisted in the collar of his shirt and pulling his face to his, “Fucking look at me motherfucker!”

_I’m scared._

_Stop._

_For me, please just stop._

Frank’s hands still clenched as Gerard’s mouth opens.

“Do it,” he chokes out softly, “fucking do it. Kill me.” He says like he’s asking. Like he’s asking for a cup of water or for a hug.

“Do it,” he repeats.

Frank suddenly backs off, the gravity of what he’s doing finally hitting him like a blow to the gut. He looks at Gerard, an angry red line across his neck, on his cheek, and feels the sting on his hand. The quiet is heavy on his shoulders and Gerard slides down to the floor, eyes fixed on the ground.

“Do whatever the fuck you want,” Frank’s voice is shaking as he leaves the room. The sounds of the hallway don’t reach his ears, the keycard beep, the crack of the door. He collapses against the back of the door, disgusted and angry and scared as the tears he wouldn’t cry for all those months finally came flooding down. For every night Gerard didn’t come back. For every mark Bert left on him. For every time he held Gerard up and brushed him off. For how much he loved him. For hopelessness. For jealousy. For everything. The sounds of his sobs finally reach his own ears. Ugly. Sweet.

\---------------------

A knock on the door jolted Frank awake. The afternoon sun shone harsh through the gap in the curtains. He realized he was still sitting on the floor, huddled there since last night.

The knock came again, sounded a little irritated this time.

“Frank? You awake?”

It was Bob.

“Don’t make me kick in the door, dude.”

Frank rubbed his face and slowly stood up, his bones making awful sounds as he did. When he opened the door, Bob was standing there with a paper cup of coffee.

“Come on,” he said, “Let’s take a walk.”

Frank looked back at the perfectly made bed in his room and then at Bob. _Fuck it,_ he thought, closing the door and walking to the elevator with Bob.

“Least you brought coffee,” Frank said, reaching for the cup. 

“Yeah, no. This is my coffee,” said Bob, taking a long sip. 

“Unbelievable.”

The elevator pinged and the two stepped into the lobby and then out into the city. Bob sipped on his coffee while they walked in silence for a few blocks. Frank was still trying to process everything that happened last night, feeling guilty and terrified at what he said, what he’d done. It was a nightmare. How would he treat someone he loved like that? How was he going to face Gerard now?

“You remember what I said yesterday?” Bob asked, eyes looking forward and not at Frank, “About addicts, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Frank replied, “You can’t fix addicts--”  
“Yeah,” echoed Bob, “Look, I know Gerard’s in a bad way but,” he took another sip of his coffee, “But he’s gonna pull through this--”

“How the fuck you know that, Bryar?” 

“Because,” said Bob, stopping and looking at Frank, “Because he’s got you there to pull his ass through it.”

Frank opened his mouth to say something but Bob went on, “We all went and knocked on Gerard’s door, Frank. Me, Mikey, Ray. But you’re the only one he opened it for.”

“Wait you--”

“Yeah, I saw you pounding on that door last night -- didn’t think he’d open it, but there you go.”

Frank looked away. He wasn’t sure Gerard was ever going to open the door for him again after yesterday, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“We’re all worried, Frank. People got different ways of dealing with shit, but that doesn’t mean we don’t care and,” he took another quick sip of coffee before hurriedly saying, “M’sorry. For not dealing better.”

Frank didn’t know what to say. Bob handed him the half-full coffee and patted his shoulder, “Drink up.”

And without another word, Bob turned around and headed back to the hotel, leaving Frank with the cup in his hands. Frank admits, Bob could be distant and, well, an asshole most of the time, but he could still feel Bob’s hand on his shoulder, warm and strong. He took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and squinted his eyes at the sun. If he had to pull Gerard’s ass through hell and back, then he fucking would. 

\-----------------------


End file.
